


Fades to the Light

by Masu_Trout



Category: Silent Hill (Video Game Series)
Genre: Bonding, Chocolate Box Treat, Friendship, Gen, Mid-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 04:24:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5854129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Masu_Trout/pseuds/Masu_Trout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the middle of all the horrors they've suffered, Henry and Eileen manage to find a few moments of quiet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fades to the Light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [uumuu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/uumuu/gifts).



Henry clambered awkwardly out of the smooth plane of the wall, his rumpled shirt and dirtied skin appearing where moments before there had been only concrete.

He claimed there was a hole there—big enough to climb in, he'd said, and with strange runes scrawled all around its rim—but no matter how hard she tried she couldn't see anything of the sort. Eileen had run her hands over the rough stretch of wall, had even thrown herself against it in a moment of terrified desperation, and all she'd gotten for her troubles was a few extra bruises to add to her collection. Whatever hole Henry saw didn't seem to care for her all that much.

She hated it. There was a path to safety _right there_ , right in front of her nose, but no matter what she tried she couldn't so much as get a glimpse of it. It was sheer torture. 

Eileen had gotten a lot of experience with torture these past few hours.

“Hello,” Henry said as he dropped to the ground in front of her. His pockets were bulging once more, stuffed with rolls of bandages and medicine-bottle-sized drinks, and he had a rusted axe clutched in one hand. “Are you all right?”

Eileen smiled. “Yeah, I'm doing okay. I'm getting a little more used to this place, I think.”

She'd just about had a panic attack the first time he went and disappeared through the hole; she'd spent every moment he was gone clutching her purse like a sword in her one still-useful arm and pacing back and forth against the chipped tile. (Not that it would've done her any good if she _had_ encountered a monster—right then, it was about all she could manage to stay standing. A decently sized flock of those little moth-bats would've finished her off in no time at all.) When he'd returned, after what had felt like hours and probably actually been about ten minutes, she'd more or less thrown herself at him.

Henry was a pretty good sport, luckily. He handled a pack of half-rotted dogs and a terrified neighbor much the same way: with a calm stoicism that could easily be either extreme self-possession or apathy borne of terror. Eileen wasn't sure which it was, and frankly she didn't particularly want to find out. It was better to imagine that at least one of them knew what they were doing in this hellish world.

No more panicking; she'd promised herself that. Eileen was bound and determined to keep herself together. She was going to learn to survive in this place if ( _unless_ ) it killed her.

Henry nodded, offering her a near-invisible smile that quickly turned into a thoughtful frown. “One moment.” He rummaged around in his pockets, pulling out an energy drink, a handful of subway tokens, a tarnished silver key, and some sort of antique medallion before finally taking out a half-melted candle.

“Here,” he said in a tone of deep satisfaction. “We should burn this.” Without another word, he knelt down and pressed the soft white wax against the bloodstained floor.

“O…kay,” Eileen said. Far be it from her to question his methods. “Funny thing. I always kinda imagined you as an incense sort of guy.”

He snorted and glanced back up at Eileen. “Really? I never thought I'd come off as New Age to anyone.”  
Eileen knelt down beside him, doing her best not to jostle her casted arm or touch the floor any more than she had to. “I mean, don't you think? Quiet guy, a bit scruffy, disappears into his room for weeks at a time, has an apartment that smells like rotting meat… I assumed there must be some sort of weird religious stuff happening on the other side of that door.”

Henry coughed out a laugh. “There was, I guess. Just not any religion of mine.”

“Isn't that how it goes.” 

When things had first started getting strange, Eileen had laughed it off as best she could. She'd ignored the strange smells, told herself she didn't hear any weird noises, joked with her friends at work about the shut-in who lived next to her. (Kept her keys clenched tight in her hand whenever she walked past that door, because even then some animal instinct in her brain had been screaming at her to _run_.)

Occasionally, she'd worried that Henry might be dangerous. Eileen almost wanted to apologize for that now; she couldn't imagine what he must have been going through, alone in this world, while the rest of them in South Ashfield Heights worried about their jobs or their rent or what they were having for dinner.

There was nothing she could say that wouldn't come off as weird, though— _Hey, Henry, sorry I thought you were a drug addict, I promise I spent more time pitying you than being annoyed with you_ —so instead she just leaned in close and watched Henry's hands as he lit the wick of the candle.

The moment the golden flame flickered into view, Eileen felt better. The ache in her back faded, the fog in her headed started to clear, and muscles she hadn't even realized were knotted began to untense. There was something about the warm glow of the candle that just felt good to look into.

“Wow,” Eileen said. “I wasn't expecting that.”

Henry nodded. “I don't know what it is, but there's something about these candles. The ghosts don't seem to like them either, so they're doubly useful.”

“Huh. So we're safe here for a bit, then?” A wave of relief swept through her. Never being able to feel safe, knowing any moment they spent resting could mean some shrieking monstrosity would come crawling through the walls to grab at them, knowing _she_ could have so very easily ended up as one of those things… it wore on her more than she could admit.

A moment of rest would be nice.

“I think so.” Henry shrugged. “I'm mostly guessing at how all of this works. But we need a break, so better try and stay safe if we can.”

Henry always wore an odd combination of slumped shoulders and a soft smile; it made him hard to read. Right now, though, he looked a little less stiff than usual, a little more relaxed. Eileen thought maybe the candle was doing him some good too.

She laughed and nudged his arm from across their makeshift little circle. “Well, if we end up eaten, we'll know it didn't work, right?”  
Henry chuckled. 

Eileen stared into the soft glow for a while, letting her mind drift. The candle was huge, clunky, the sort of thing priests working in big fancy churches used, but somehow it still reminded her of the candles she'd gotten on her birthday cake as a little girl.

Probably she was projecting, clinging to any scrap of familiarity she could find in this nightmare world. She was stuck with a near-stranger in a hospital that had become a death trap—it was no surprise her brain might latch onto anything that could provide even the slightest hint of comfort.

 _What about Henry?_ Eileen wondered, glancing over at him once more. He had to be just as lost as her. Was there anything in this place that reminded him of better times?

“Hey,” she blurted out suddenly. She cringed even as the words left her mouth—breaking the silence that way felt so very awkward. She didn't even know what she wanted to say.

Henry looked up. “Yeah?”

Well, no backing out of it now. She might as well try to make conversation. “What did you want to be as a kid?”

He blinked, looking completely baffled. Eileen couldn't blame him. “What makes you ask?”

“Well...” Eileen shrugged, feeling oddly self-conscious. “I guess I was just thinking about the past. When I was a kid I thought a lot about what I was going to do when I grew up, you know? I never expected _this_.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. This isn't exactly the stuff of dreams.” Henry snorted humorlessly. “I mean, unless you have really shitty dreams.” He shifted his stance, stretching one leg out to his side without lowering himself to the floor completely. “What about you?”

“Huh?”

“What did you want to be as a kid?”

“Oh _God_ ,” Eileen said, dropping her head into her hands. “I guess I deserved that one, huh?”

Henry drew back. “Sorry, I didn't mean—if you don't want to talk...”

“No, no, it's fine.” She laughed quietly. “I just wasn't expecting it. To tell you the truth, I always wanted to be an actress. Went to college for it and everything.”

She'd half expected him to laugh, or at least hide a smile behind his hand. Instead, though, he just nodded. “I can see that. You seem like you'd do well onstage.”

Eileen couldn't help the little thrill of happiness that shot through her at his words. _Silly,_ she thought. Here they were, beaten and battered and fighting for their lives, and she was thinking about her acting. “Hah, thanks. I bet you can guess how well that turned out, though.”

“Still.” He shrugged. “I think it's impressive that you tried.” 

“Yeah? That's sweet of you. It's nothing too special, though—half my coworkers have basically the same story.”

“No, I'm serious.” Henry looked at her. The candle's flicker lent an eerie hollowness to his face. “It's great that you went for it.”

Eileen grinned wryly. “Sounds like you've got a story of your own there.”

Now it was Henry's turn to look embarrassed. “Not really. Nothing big.”

“Oh, come on! Isn't this the sharing circle? Confess all your secrets and all that?”

It was strangely endearing to watch the confusion play across his face. Henry seemed like the type who didn't get teased very often, but he was nothing if not a good sport about it. “I don't think this candle's _that_ special. And anyway, it's not like my childhood was any more exciting that yours.” 

The head of the axe he held scraped against the floor as he shifted. “I've always loved photography—that's what I wanted to do with my life when I was a kid. But”—he shrugged—“it didn't seem all that practical, so.”

“You went and got a real job like a responsible adult,” Eileen finished. _Photographer, huh_. It fit him—he was so quiet, so very still. Anyone who could blend into the scenery the way he did was sure to be great behind the lens of a camera. “Well, hey, maybe once we're out of here I'll hire you to do some headshots for me!”

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Maybe they'll make a horror movie out of what happened here. Then we can both be famous.”

“Oh my _god_.” Eileen couldn't hold back a laugh at the thought. “They totally would—can you imagine?” She pitched her voice low, curled her hands into claws. “ _The South Ashfield Slasher_. Coming soon to a theater near you.”

“Based on a true story,” Henry added.

It would be awful. Completely tasteless. Eileen wanted it already. “Well, I guess I've got my reason to live. I can't let myself die until this atrocity gets made.”

He snorted. “Whatever works, right?” 

“Exactly.” Eileen glanced down at the candle. By now it was more wax than wick; half-melted goo formed a pyramid around the flame in the dimly-glowing center. “Speaking of working, I don't think this candle's going to last us much longer.”

Henry nodded. “We'll have to get going again soon.”

Still, he didn't make any sort of move to get up. He was probably enjoying this as much as she was; Eileen hadn't even realized just how desperate she was for a moment of rest until she crouched down. Being able to spend time with someone she could rely on—being able to think, even if for just a moment, about something other than how bad her odds of survival were—it was almost a physical relief. 

“Sounds like a plan,” Eileen said. “We've got another minute or two, though, right?”

“Yeah. We should have a little bit longer.” Henry sat quietly, the firelight reflecting in his pale eyes.

Together, they waited until the last hint of flame flickered out.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm the sort of panicky player who always felt the need to heal Eileen the moment she started showing damage, and I started wondering how 'stopping everything to stand around a candle for a while' might look from an outside perspective, haha. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy, Memaizaka!


End file.
